Apolo articles

[mtnme]

I keep finding these old articles, and I noticed through the threads there are old articles strewn thoughout the forum everywhere. I thought it would be a nice idea to get them all posted in one place instead of posting them on the Apolo news thread (It's OLD news, it's just NEW news to some of us!)

So here is one from 2006


Surprise visit by Apolo Ohno
By Carol N. Vu
Northwest Asian Weekly

It’s not every day a reigning Olympic gold medalist glides into our office.

Looking suave in a leather jacket, his trademark long hair nicely coiffed, Apolo Ohno made an unannounced visit to the Northwest Asian Weekly last Wednesday.

Jaws dropped. Gasps were heard. People ran to get their cameras. Ohno chuckled at the attention as he graciously shook everyone’s hands and answered questions. His father, Belltown hairstylist Yuki Ohno, stood off to the side and beamed as he watched his son interact with fans.

Ohno won a gold and two bronzes in short-track speedskating at the 2004 Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy, adding to the gold and silver he won at the 2002 Salt Lake City Games. The face of American speedskating for the past several years and an internationally recognized celebrity, he has won races around the world, making legions of fans along the way. He certainly hasn’t been hurt by his youthful heartthrob image, complete with wavy locks, boy-next-door grin and, of course, that oh-so-cool soul patch.

The 24-year-old was in town to spend Christmas with his dad, who has raised Apolo by himself since the time he was an infant. After the Ohno men had lunch in Chinatown/International District with friend and Seattle entrepreneur Yale Wong, Wong took them to the Northwest Asian Weekly to meet the staff.

Ohno remains close to his dad, who is clearly his No. 1 fan, and visits him in Seattle as often as he can. In competition, Yuki Ohno can often be seen in the stands, arms above his head, cheering his son on. It’s still Yuki who cuts Apolo’s hair.

If you didn’t know who Apolo Ohno was when he walked in, you’d think he was just your average nice guy. He appeared at ease talking to strangers. Many celebrities are guarded when they talk to the media, for fear of saying something that would damage their reputation, but not Ohno. He was relaxed and open, even when discussing his love life. (More on that later.)

It’s as if he wanted people to get to know the real Apolo Ohno.

Life after speedskating

For the past several years, Ohno has spent most of his time in Colorado Springs, Colo., where he trains full time at the U.S. Olympic Training Center. When he has time, he takes classes at the University of Colorado-Colorado Springs, where he is studying towards a business degree, albeit slowly, but surely.

That degree might come in handy soon, as Ohno is already thinking about life after speedskating. He’s looked into opening up fitness shops, investing in real estate, even acting in movies. “I have many interests,” he acknowledged.

Ohno has already written an autobiography, which was published in 2002.

For 2007, his goal is simple: to come up with a plan, including fitness and mental regimens, that will get him to the next Winter Olympics. It’s especially important to him that he gets a spot on the 2010 team, as the Games will take place close to home, in Vancouver, B.C., and it might be his last appearance in the Olympics. Ohno said most speedskaters reach their peak at 27, the age he will be in 2010.

Some of his toughest competition comes from the South Korean skaters, with whom he has shared numerous controversies. At the 2002 Games, South Korean skater Kim Dong-sung finished the 1500-meter race first, but was disqualified for blocking Ohno, who was then named the winner. The South Korean team was furious, and Ohno became the recipient of several death threats from overzealous fans of the Korean team.

In 2006, when Ohno was beat by two South Korea skaters in the 1,000-meter race, he made it a point to show good sportsmanship. “I was the first to shake their hands,” he said. On the medals stand, gold medalist Ahn Hyun Soo invited silver winner Lee Ho-suk and bronze medalist Ohno to share the top of the podium with him.

Ohno believes any hostility between the Americans and the South Koreans has been a function of the media’s imagination. “We get along fine,” he insisted.

Refreshingly honest

Ohno looked leaner in person than he does on TV, but he is just as personable, friendly and refreshingly honest.

When asked if he has to work to conquer his demons, he replied, “Every day.”

Even the most exceptional athletes like Ohno have to deal with the fear of failure, the fear of not being good enough. Self-doubt can haunt them like ghosts. It takes a lot of mental toughness to rid yourself of them and focus on your strengths.
To keep his body in shape, Ohno said he trains for about eight hours a day and sticks to a very strict diet. Even while vacationing in Seattle, he didn’t get a break. Ohno said he still worked out “a few hours” every day.

He flew back to Colorado Springs Dec. 28.

So, does this heartthrob have a girlfriend?

The media widely reported during the Turin Olympics that he was dating fellow American speedskater Allison Baver. But last week, Ohno would only say with a grin, “I’m dating.”

It’s obvious he’s used to talking to the media and with fans. People ask him the same questions over and over, so he’s prepared with articulate and polished answers. He comes across as a mature and thoughtful young man.

One major irk of all reporters: when someone tells them, “This is off the record.” It’s irritating when a public figure discloses interesting information about him or herself that other reporters don’t know, only to follow it up with a request to not publish it.

Not once did Ohno say that to anyone in the office. He was open with everyone.

Ohno seems to understand that people want to know more about him. So he remains accommodating and approachable, patient and gracious.

And that’s the real Apolo Ohno.

Carol N. Vu can be reached at [e-mail].

[mtnme]

I decided to start an "articles" thread, so they would all be posted in one place. There are lots of old articles through the threads as well. Maybe one by one, we can get them all posted here. Who wants to help?

This is an interview with Yuki. Once again, it is a bit old, but an interesting read. (Isn't it amazing that just when you think you have read everything there is to read on Apolo, you stumble onto something else.)

Northwest Nikkei Interviews Yuki Ohno

After the Salt Lake City Olympics, Yuki Ohno, Apolo Ohno's father, is relieved. His son, Apolo, a Japanese American, won gold and silver medals at the Olympic games the first time that an American completed at short track. During an interview of Yuki, we asked how, as a single father, he raised Apolo and how he felt about his son's victories in the Olympics.

NAP: What was your impression of the 1st Olympic experience?

Yuki: I think Apolo was sensational material for media stories: his unusual name, age, first US and four-gold medal candidate, that scandal before the games, and so on. They were waiting for a dramatic story. There were some fabricated or exaggerated parts. For instance, suppose there are one or two out of his 50 friends who ended up in a detention center, which is not so unusual these days; they assumed Apolo must be a gang-banger, kind of thing.

NAP: What did Apolo believe in?

Yuki: He was interested in Greek mythology, probably, because of his name. His favorite book was "Peaceful Warrior" by Dan Millman. He knew that getting gold medals was beyond his control, no matter how hard he tried to be ready for the game or that his performance was perfect. It is important to overcome the struggle or adversary in order to reach the goal. So he never demanded gold medals per se.

He was lucky to be expected be the gold medallist. He had won all the competitions in short track before Salt Lake and there is no other game that one could get four medals. In figure skating, there is only one (gold) medal granted. Apolo had an inner drive to win. He also knew that he was given the talent and he challenged the work to polish his gift. In the world of competition, I think you need to polish your talent even you have a great talent.

NAP: What did he learn through this Olympic experience?

Yuki: He made so many friends and we just didn't expect he could reach out to so many people's hearts. It feels like every person's energy went into his body even though his body is physically tired.

And he learned that what we talked about was right. He confirmed that our belief shaped itself. Everybody has different goals but every goal has a challenge and comes with struggle. But you should be happy when you reach the inner goal. It will be a big success if you can appreciate it. That might have inspired the people. And that is blessing, he said.

NAP: How did you contribute to his way of thinking?

Yuki: We both think the same way. We talked, many times, about how happy we would be if he did the perfect performance or satisfactory to himself regardless of the gold medal. It brings the peace inside. We didn't expect this but everything fell in the right spot.

NAP: What kind of child was Apolo?

Y: He was in the gifted program in the elementary school. Ms. Gregory, the 3rd and 4th grade teacher was fearful. A lot of kids cried. Apolo wasn't one of them, though. Lots and lots of homework he had.

H: What was the hardest time in your child rearing period as a single parent?

Yuki: I picked him up at the daycare everyday and then shopping. I worked on Saturdays, too. Then I realized it wasn't a good idea to be away from him so much. So I started to take him to an ocean beach or mountain on weekends. He still goes hiking by himself now, just watch the stars sometimes. During puberty, due to the hormone change, he was rebellious, so rebellious that I couldn't recognize my son sometimes, the act, what he said, everything.

NAP: What did you want to communicate with him during those days?

Yuki: We shared the moments in nature. We had a quality time together. There is the nature and you exist in it. In the 21st century, it's hard to go out in the nature. Kids are into video games. Apolo received the energy in the nature where nobody is around. I believe teenagers will come back if they had the experience (spending some time in the nature) during their childhood. Anybody experience struggle but in my opinion, that is the starting point. Don't whine or make it as an excuse. It's important to face it and overcome it because life is full of happenings and surprises.

NAP: What is next?

Yuki: We met many people, new encounters. It's going to be the new challenge. As Apolo said the Olympics was a part of his journey. It continues. Things are evolving now.

Apolo left us with his bracing smile even when he lost the game, and taught the whole nation about the fascinating game of short track skating. And having raised a son alone, Yuki is in a state of bliss, enjoying his son's success. I have a vision of "peaceful warriors" in them.

<< Apolo Anton Ohno Portal Main Page

[number1fan]

here's one from my archives, always a great read...great idea mtnme

Cold Warrior
By Bill Donahue

Before lining up on the ice in Turin for the Winter Games, speedskater Apolo Anton Ohno had a score to settle. So he packed himself off to Seoul, South Korea, where he was Public Enemy Number One, to clear his name.

A hundred or so riot policemen stood at the Seoul airport last fall, waiting for him. They were all dressed alike, in powder-blue shirts with ropey white shoulder epaulets, black captains hats and shiny black shoes. Many of them stood with their arms ramrod stiff at their sides as they guarded a narrow pathway formed by two lines of red tape.

Eventually, a young man with long hair stepped out of the baggage claim area. It was him, maybe. It looked like him and the waiting press corps surged forward. One photographer crashed through the tape, stumbling and then continued to shoot even as he lay sprawled on the floor.

Wrong guy.

Finally, after a few minutes, Apolo Anton Ohno emerged.

Ohno, 23, is the world's third-ranked short-track speedskater. But that doesn't quite capture his status. Four years ago in Salt Lake City, Ohno became the first American male short-tracker ever to snare an Olympic gold medal, winning the 1,500-meter sprint and heroically salvaging a silver in the 1,000-meter final by slithering across the finish line on his side.

Overnight, Ohno became an icon of cool. Here was a rakish Japanese-American kid with flowing, jet-black hair and a soul patch who raced with a bandana knotted under his helmet. Rumors of his days running the streets of Seattle with teen hoodlums swirled about him. Elton John invited him to a house party and a fashion magazine featured him in a pictorial.

Meanwhile in South Korea, where speedskating is a national obsession, Ohno became the subject of a deep hatred. Perhaps you can recall why. In Ohno's Olympic gold-medal race, he trailed South Korean Dong-Sung Kim by inches as they flew through the last lap, their backs bent, their gloves grazing the ice. Ohno attempted to lunge past Kim on the inside but Kim kept the lead and crossed the line first. He grabbed a South Korean flag and floated victoriously around the rink. Then suddenly the judges announced that Kim had disqualified himself; he had "cross-tracked" Ohno, illegally blocking an attempted pass (see photos above).

In South Korea, Ohno's gesture of complaint- hands high, palms open, calling attention to the foul- was read as a desperate Hollywood attempt to snatch victory from defeat, an act of entitlement from an impudent whiner. Already, many young South Koreans detested the U.S. because, on their peninsula, we're still fighting the Cold War. More that 30,000 U.S. troops are stationed in and near Seoul, dedicated to chilling North Korea's Stalinesque dictator Kim Jong-Il, even as south Korea seeks rapprochement. The troops are reviled, and the victorious Apolo Ohno became an anti-U.S. scapegoat. In the days following his triumph in Salt Lake, Ohno received numerous death threats. Later, in a 2002 poll by South Korean magazine Vox, 174 out of 442 South Korean college students reportedly named Ohno the most unwelcome visitor, relegating Osama Bin Laden to a distant second place. When a World Cup skating meet was held in Chonju, South Korea, in 2003, Ohno stayed home. According to his father, he was concerned for his safety.

But as the police waited at the Seoul airport last fall, another three-day World Cup meet was slated to take place, and Ohno was in. In a decade of World cup skating, he had endured plenty of difficult experiences. He'd survived the 35-mile-per-hour dirty tricks of his sport- the shoving, the blocking, the elbowing- longer than almost any other skater on the circuit, and he was a three-time World Cup overall champion. Still, the way he won gold in 2002 left the question open as to whether he has the ruthlessness of truly dominant sports figures like Jordan or Gretsky or, for that matter, the South Korean speedskating team. Now he had a chance to remove all doubt: He would face down the death threats and the notoriously dirty team play of the South Koreans on their home ice.

So he picked up his two pairs of skates from baggage claim, then cut down the police-lined path through the tape. The reporters trailed him outside and an entourage gathered around an idling vehicle. A USOC security specialist had traveled here especially for Ohno, and two hulking and somber Korean security guards hovered around the skater as well. Ohno was worried. "All it'd take is one crazy person," he had told me earlier. However, he had discussed this Korea trip at length with his father. "Being an athlete," Yuki Ohno believes, "is just like being a soldier. To survive very brutal experiences is good for you."

Judging from his media image, I had expected Ohno to be loose-limbed and insouciant. In fact he is sober and unrelentingly methodical. For the past eight years, he has lived in a dorm room at the USOC Training Center in Colorado Springs. He's allowed himself one indulgence- a white Lexus LX 470 SUV that is ticked out with chrome rims, Pirelli Scorpion Zero tires, and Focal Utopia speakers replete with custom "Olympic Style" subwoofers. Mostly, though, he's been monastic. "It's not uncommon for Apolo to spend a whole weekend working on his equipment," says his girlfriend, U.S. short-track star, Allison Baver. "When he wants to buy something- right now it's a 1964 Cadillac de Ville- he will research to no end and wait for the perfect one."

When I met him for lunch a couple of days after his arrival in Seoul, Ohno took a full five minutes to study the menu. Then he turned to me attentively, with amiable aplomb, and began fielding questions.

What did he think of Korea's discontent with the U.S.?

"I don't think anything at all about that," he said. "I'm just an athlete."

What was he reading?

"Muhammad Ali's The Soul Of A Butterfly. It's very inspiring. I mean, he's Muhammad Ali. 'He will fall in four!' " Ohno decreed, echoing Ali. " 'He will fall in four!' "

Ohno told me that another idol for him is Lance Armstrong. Like the famously lean Lance. Ohno aims to attain a high "strength to weight" ratio. "I weigh 10 pounds less than last season," he told me, "and I can lift more."

How much did he weigh?

He refused to tell me.

"Okay," I said, "do you have any special rituals that you carry out before races?"

"No, but if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you," Ohno laughed.

He may not cop to secret rituals, but he clearly has an intensely practiced pre-competition windup. In Seoul, he zeroed in on his training with a steady and almost hermetic focus. One day after lunch I watched him do some extra drills solo, donning a waist harness and lashing himself to a light pole so he could lean against a taut rubber band and do quadriceps "push-ups." The exercise was routine for him, almost rote, but still he worked with such deliberate intention that he seemed, in gym shorts, like a Rodin statue come to life.

"Move your foot a little, like this," advised U.S. coach Li Yan, a one-time Chinese skater. Ohno did, and then continued to toil.

South Korea is arguably the premier short-track speedskating local in the world. Skaters began racing around frozen rice paddies here decades ago, and in 1992, when short track first became an Olympic sport, the South Koreans dominated, winning gold both in the men's relay and the 1,000-meter at the Games in Albertville. Today, most of Korea's best young skaters train in the Mokdong Ice Arena. There, in the dingy basement rink, beneath the glamorous upstairs World cup rink, you can see tight packs of crouched-over school children whaling about, the names of their grade schools printed on the shins of their skin suits, as their coaches yell out splits. There are hundreds of such children in Seoul, and they typically work out eight hours a day- four hours on ice,four hours off.

The South Korean men's team is rank number one and the men who've fared best in the four World Cups held this season- Hyun-Soo Ahn the world's top-ranked short-tracker , and Ho-Suk Lee, the world's second-ranked skater- train in Seoul.

Among American skaters, the South Koreans have a dark reputation. "Everyone keeps it on the ice, except the Koreans," says Baver, who will skate in Turin herself. "The Koreans are very emotional, very dramatic."

"Culturally," Ohno says, "they don't skate as individuals. They work as a team, blocking you, sandwiching you. It's illegal, but they've perfected it. Every time three Koreans are in a race, they'll team skate- it's a given."

Ohno wanted to tell his side of the 2002 story to the South Korean public. But the Korea Skating Union would not let him and when I met one day with a member of the Union's organizing committee, an older gentleman named Pyung-Lyul Kim, he was genially dismissive. "When he gets the gold medal," Lyul said in bemused and strained English, pinning an imaginary medal on his own chest, "then he is qualified to ask for the press conference. But now- why Ohno? Who is Ohno? He is only one person competing."

Yuki Ohno thinks that 19-year-old Ho-Suk Lee is particularly aggressive. Ohno's fans hold a deeper disdain for Ahn, though. It was Ahn who hooked his arm around Ohno, making him fall in the 1,000-meter crashfest at the 2002 Olympic finals. "That Ahn is dirty," says Yuki. "Dirty." Nevermind that the crash began when Ohno and a Chinese skater, Li Jiajun, started to tussle.

Americans also see Korean short-tracker Seung-Jae Lee as a key henchman. In March 2004, at the world championships in Sweden, Seung-Jae Lee collided with a Canadian skater, Jonathan Guilmette, causing Guilmette to fracture a vertebra. Officials gave Lee a dreaded "yellow card," eliminating him from the rest of the competition. Seung-Jae Lee, however, did not make the Korean Olympic team this year, so in the week leading up to the World Cup races, I'd been watching for his countrymen to get goonish.

I kept looking for hard evidence of their dastardly team skating. But the South Koreans never got three men together in a single event. So what I saw was Ahn and Ho-Suk Lee milling separately among other skaters in a race's early laps. They'd skate calmly, and then there'd be a certain explosion; Ahn hopping up slightly, changing gears, dancing past everyone else, his blades flashing. He wove through almost invisible gaps in the pack and he seemed impossibly light on his feet.


Finally one evening I convinced Pyung-Lyul to introduce me to top-ranked Hyun-Soo Ahn. We met Ahn in his hotel room, where he was sitting on his bed, typing a text message to his girlfriend. Ahn is 20 years old and a veteran of the 2002 Olympics. But at 5' 4" and 117 pounds, he's a slender reed of a person, and with his boyish mien and his bowl-like hair cut, he looks about 14. In Mokdong Ice Arena, whenever I saw him he waved, smiling, as he honored me with a quick, shallow bow. Now he described Ohno respectfully. "At first," he said, looking down at his phone, "I thought he didn't play in fairness. But then I learned that this"- he threw up one open palm- "is something skaters can do as a tactic. It's not cheating. Even though some Koreans have bad feelings about Apolo, the world is learning from him. He is a master."

Ahn's roommate, an ungainly kid with buck teeth and a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, watched us silently- bewildered, it seemed, by the English words flying around him. Only later did I learn that it was Ho-Suk Lee, the world's second-ranked skater, whom Yuki considers one of the most aggressive of all the South Koreans.

Two days before the races began in Seoul, Ohno came down with a stomach virus, and on the first two days of the meet, he skated horribly. His father came from Tokyo, where he had been visiting relatives, to bring Apolo an herbal intestinal cleanser. Yuki brought an artistic flair to the rink. Yuki, who's 50, is a hair stylist who runs a trendy Seattle salon called Yuki's Diffusion. In the 50-degree chill of the arena, he wore an orange mesh Nike T-shirt, aqua Nike shorts, and a pair of indigo Nike batting gloves that he'd brought along purely for style reasons. "They're cool!" he explained.

Yuki is 5' 6" tall with a toned physique. He spent his days videotaping Apolo and fretting with an almost athletic rigor. He told me that when he was raising his son, "I had armies of parents against me. They all wanted him to play video games with their kids and come to parties until 3 A.M., and I said no. I just burst into their houses and said, 'He's coming home. He has training tomorrow.' " Apolo's mom vanished from his life when he was one, leaving his father, a Japanese immigrant, to raise Apolo alone. When Apolo was 12, Yuki shaped him into a state-champion swimmer. Later, he helped make his son the first-ever 14-year-old American World Cup short-track skater. As the stomach virus swept through the American's gathered in Seoul, Yuki said, "I can't afford to be sick. I gotta take care of my guy. My mental has completely shielded me from any kind of sickness."

As a teen, Apolo fought bitterly with Yuki. Now, though, he happily took his dad's medicine. "It's great to have him here," he said about his dad one night, waxing into a rare moment of reverie as we rode a van through the neon-bright streets of Seoul, "He's just my dad. He's always been there by my side." He said nothing more because, really, the truth was bigger than words: He had integrated his father's lesson of discipline. He'd grown up, more or less, and would let his performance speak for itself.

On the last day of the Seoul World Cup, Ohno arrived at the rink ashen-faced, having eaten nothing the night before. Warming up, he could taste trickles of vomit in his mouth. Still, he skated through four heats of the 1,000- not dazzling, but with enough proficiency to finish, each time, in the top two (of four skaters) and advance. Then, in the 1,000-meter final, he won. Some gentle boos rippled through the arena. Two teenage girls with a camera phone tittered, "He's so cute! He's so cute!" Then a few minutes later, in the 3,000-meter final, Ohno had a chance to redeem himself, to become the meet champion.

The 3,000 is unlike the other, briefer short-track races. Early on, it's painfully slow, with skaters dragging along at 15 or 16 seconds a lap, more than six seconds off sprinting speed. Anticipation wells, and in Seoul the crowd ebbed in and out of a chant: "Dae han min guk! Republic of Korea!" Ohno jockeyed for position along with Ahn, Lee, and three others. For a while, he rested his back, skating the straightaways with his hands on his knees. He was in fourth place.

Then, with eight laps to go, he got down to business: 11.0, 9.9, 9.3. On one turn, Ohno's hand flew into Ahn's back- a slight, but legal, shove. Ahn jostled the skater in front of him and everyone came flying onto the straightaway, still standing. With four laps to go, the whole pack was clumped now. Then somehow, in the mad final melee, three lesser skaters fell away. On the last turn before the bell lap, Ho-Suk Lee held first, then Ahn, then Ohno. Ohno passed them on the inside. He passed both of them at once. He passed them so quickly and so nimbly that eventually I would have to watch the DVD recording six times before I could believe that the pass actually happened.

He came down the last straightaway all along, and the crowd, resigned to his winning, bathed Ohno in a steady, even applause- an approval that was more polite than forgiving. Ohno was indeed a master, even as a scrim of tension remained, and now he widened the gap. His arms windmilled in perfect muscular rhythm. He came around the last turn- smooth, suddenly a full quarter-second ahead- and then he pumped his fist once, sharply, in triumph.

[number1fan]

here's an all-time favorite!

One Thing Perfectly: Catching up with Apolo Ohno
Apolo Ohno is one of those guys who are famous for 17 days at a time, twice a decade.

By Chris Jones (more from this author)
2/1/2006, 12:00 AM

HE FILLS THE WAITING MOSTLY WITH ROUTINE. Every night, like tonight, he returns to his shared dorm room at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs (where he's now spent seven of his twenty-three years), stretches out on his Floor's thin carpet, and works on his skates. Having once been held in the hearts of millions, he seems surprisingly comfortable leading a life that's one part machinist, one part monk.

First he finds his tool kit, a Tupperware bin filled with wrenches and stones, and next he takes out his skates, which are locked into a jig, blades up. The boots are hard plastic, burgundy and gray; the blades are seventeen inches long--as long as home plate is wide--and silver and gold, like his four-year-old medals. (They're in Seattle, by the way, in his father's new house, which, as it happens, sits on Olympic View Drive, overlooking the Olympic Mountains.) Everything in Apolo Ohno's life hangs on the sharpness and balance of these blades. They are his foundation.

They are also curved slightly to the left to help him grab the corners, but after this morning's practice session and another hundred laps, he felt as if they weren't quite right. By using a radius gauge that can detect flaws to the thousandth of an inch, he finds the wobble--a whisper, really, but plenty enough to keep him up at night. He works the kink with a tool called a bender, crimping the blade and measuring it again and again until the radius gauge tells him that all is right with his world. Then he locks his skates back in their jig and scrapes a square, flat, diamond-laced stone over the blades. He stops occasionally to pluck the metal with his fingertips, like a harpist working his strings, until he is satisfied with some invisible success. Finally, he runs another, smaller stone along the sides of the blades to shave off whatever microscopic burrs his earlier work produced. At last, they are perfect.

It's a little after nine o'clock. He packs up his skates now that they're ready for dawn, and he's ready for bed. In a few hours, he will rise and eat the same breakfast in the same cafeteria and skate the same laps until his blades are dull again, and then, back in his room, he will bend them and sharpen them and polish them, just as he's done every day that's passed since you last had his name on the tip of your tongue.

FOR SEVENTEEN DAYS in February 2002, Apolo Ohno occupied some portion of your brain's hippocampus; every time you flicked through the channels, there he was again. There he was, the short-track speed skater with Samson's hair and that big-toothed smile, reliving his Salt Lake City triumphs with Rosie and Jay and Katie and Conan, as if on a loop. But then, just in the way that winter turns into spring, Ohno faded for you. Someone you pulled so hard for, someone you lived and died with come every fall and push--suddenly he went on a too-short journey from a name to a face to a vague recollection, shoved out of your hippocampus by more immediate concerns and filed away in the almost oceanic depths of your cerebral cortex. For four long years, he's been hiding out there, waiting for another winter, waiting for Turin, waiting for you to remember him again.

Only one thing, in fact, has changed for Ohno, now that he's headed for Italy and a new round of torchlit fame. His coaches have started to pump the sound of a screaming, dyspeptic crowd through the arena loudspeakers in Colorado Springs, breaking the trance of his normally pin-drop-quiet morning practice. The arena looks empty, but it sounds full.

His coaches are doing this because we're not the only ones who might have forgotten.

It's hard for him to explain how exactly, but somewhere along the way Ohno lost the Olympics. Part of it was by design, because athletes are trained to think only of the future and never of the past, running their lives on rails. After each race in Salt Lake City--after each of the heats and quarters and semis; after that crash in the thousand-meter final when he dug his own skate blade into his thigh and, bleeding, stretched across the finish for silver; after he won the fifteen-hundred-meter gold following the controversial disqualification of a South Korean rival for getting a little physical; and especially after he was bumped from the five-hundred-meter podium for pushing a Japanese skater in the second-to-last turn--Ohno would disappear and bury himself in his work on his skates, erasing the memories along with the burrs. "I was so in the moment," he says. "When I'm in the zone like that, when I'm on fire . . ."

But another part of it was something else. Perhaps the Olympic experience is too big and too crazy for one man to take in. Ohno has a flash of looking into the crowd and seeing thousands of cheering fans wearing fake soul patches to match his then-famous facial hair, but then his memory pipeline snaps tight, and all that's left is a trickle of noise and color and sensation. Snapshots give way to impressions and feelings, in the way that he's become one of your million vague recollections. It's as if he went into shock until it was safe to come out again.

"I thought I was prepared for anything," he says. "But the truth is, there's no way you can prepare yourself for that kind of thing. I mean, I was nineteen years old. I was like, What's happening here? What's going on? I never once in my life thought that short track would become that big, or that I would become . . . I don't know what. Some kind of symbol, I guess. It was bizarre to be in the middle of that. It was borderline insanity."

The insanity lasted for a few more weeks. He did the talk-show rounds; he skated across the ice at New York's Rockefeller Center with Katie Couric and cameras in tow; somehow, he even found himself at Oscar after-parties, swept up in fame's red-carpet hysteria. "After-after parties," he says, shaking his head. "I'd be like, Is that Jennifer Love Hewitt? Is that the guy from the Backstreet Boys? I was like, What am I doing here?"

Soon enough, he wasn't there anymore. The monk in him began turning his mind toward returning to church. He weaned himself from the Hollywood life, first by confining it to weekends, and then by rarely leaving his room and the rink at all. But even if Ohno didn't choose to exit the stage, the return to semi-obscurity was probably inevitable, and this he understands. "You don't disappear completely," he says. "Going on a plane, a couple of people might recognize me. But after the Olympics, there's only one way to go. Things have to level off."

And, ultimately, return to a kind of workmanlike normal. Here, at the Olympic Training Center--propped up by the myth that a gold medal is the ticket to lifelong fame and fortune--that's a hard truth to convey. Ohno is the second-longest-tenured resident, the wise old man at twenty-three. (He's earned the right to dress up his room with a big-screen TV and a microwave and overstuffed leather chairs, the way lifer inmates turn their cells into palaces ten feet square.) But there are dozens of fresher-faced wrestlers, gymnasts, boxers, and cyclists here, working out in the pools and weight rooms, getting deep-tissue massages, watching what they eat down to the gram, and every last one of them believes that so long as they do this one thing perfectly, everything else in their lives will fall into place: There will be million-dollar endorsements and Wheaties boxes and everlasting love waiting for them as soon as they step off the podium. They believe their medals will double as passports to a kind of paradise, and it's only guys like Ohno who know better.

"I used to think that," he says. "We all did." Now he knows that whatever stewardship our Olympians might hold over us is almost always temporary. (When was the last time you thought of Kerri Strug?) He knows that one day, maybe as soon as this March, he'll have to quit speed skating and move out of his room and find a job that he can barely stand, and he knows, too, that there will come a day when he gets on a plane and no one gives him a second glance unless it's just because they like his big-toothed smile.

"I'm not set for life, that's for sure," he says. "This ain't the NBA." And as if on cue, his roommate flushes the toilet.

STILL, OHNO WAKES UP at half past six. He heads out to the fenced-in parking lot where he leaves his Lexus--one of the few tangible signs of his fleeting sponsorship success--and makes the short drive to the arena. While the Broadmoor Skating Club finishes up on the ice inside, the stands filled with bleary-eyed parents warming their hands on cups of hot chocolate, he stretches on a bench outside and starts his warm-up jog, leaning into the teeth of a strong Chinook wind.

He returns and gets dressed in the stands, which have emptied along with the ice. He puts on a Lycra body sock, his trademark headband, a helmet, gloves with plastic fingertips for running along the ice, and his skates. He joins about a dozen teammates as they slide blue pads out to line the boards for when they spill, and two large buckets of hot water are dragged to the center of the rink, waiting to fill in the circles they soon begin carving into the clean sheet.

Watching these skaters--which anyone could wander in and do, although this morning not one soul has decided to start his day in the company of Olympians--is an exercise in wonderment. For two-minute bursts, they go so fast, some of them have to wear goggles to keep their eyes from filling with tears, pushed along by the gentle, rhythmic click of their blades and, frankly, their enormous elephant asses. Most of these skaters, the men and the women, have thin, lean frames; from their waists up, they're built like children. But their bottom halves, Ohno's included, almost magically sprout some serious ghetto booty, bleeding into huge thighs that barely taper into massive calves that, all on their own, could have kept that cannibalistic Uruguayan rugby team sated for weeks. Really, they're physical freaks, predisposed since birth to tie on skates and race in tight circles around a rink. It's so clear watching him this morning that this is what Ohno, especially, was born to do.

And it's clear, too, that his enormous elephant ass, more than anything else, is why he came back here. Good thing for him, it has nothing to do with million-dollar endorsements and Wheaties boxes and everlasting love (although those would be nice). And it has nothing to do with the piped-in sound of a screaming, dyspeptic crowd (because no matter how hard his coaches try, they can't get him to remember hearing it anyway). That's not why he's spent eight years in his shared dorm room, and it's not why he wakes up every day at half past six, and it's not why he totes around an instrument that measures the flaws in his blades down to the thousandth of an inch.

He does it because he's one of the lucky ones in this life, having found something he's monstrous at. Unlike most of the rest of us, he wakes up each morning with the chance to be perfect. "There's not one day I don't want to be on the ice," he says, and that's because for two minutes at a time, he is as good as it gets.

"When you compare him to the other top skaters, they all have their strengths, obviously, but there's usually something that's limiting them in some way," says his coach, Derrick Campbell. "Apolo doesn't have that Achilles' heel. Out there, he's complete."

Out there, back on the ice, he is beautiful. He is smooth, machinelike, almost effortless; there's never a hitch in his stride or the hiccup of conscious thought. You'll remember that when you see him again this February. You'll remember his hair and that big-toothed smile. You'll remember how hard you pulled for him four years ago, and how you lived and died with him come every fall and push. Suddenly you'll lift him out of the almost oceanic depths of your cerebral cortex and back into your brain's hippocampus, and Apolo Ohno's name will once again be on the tip of your tongue. For seventeen more days, as if in a dream, everything will be just like it was. Everything will be silver and gold, like winter before it fades into spring.

www.esquire.com/features/the-game/ESQ0206GAME_72#

[mtnme]

Thanks Number1fan, I knew I could count on you!

The articles you posted are probably everyones favorites!

[mtnme]

This article always makes me laugh!



A bad day? Blame Ohno

By GARY SHELTON, Times Sports Columnist
© St. Petersburg Times
published February 24, 2002


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SALT LAKE CITY -- The feared beast moves through the land, and as he passes, crops wither and die.

He steps, and chasms open in the ground. The sky grows dark. Lightning flashes. Internet systems fail. Sirens sound in the distance. Doves cry.

Why, look, here comes the little troublemaker now.

Apolo Anton Ohno walks into the joint, and the weak-hearted cower. Insurance prices rise. Skaters fall. Controversy tags behind like a faithful puppy.

So this is what an international incident looks like. Ohno is 5 feet 7, 165 pounds, and if you had to, you could put him in your backpack. He has a golf divot of hair on his chin, long black hair and a look in his eyes that says, "Who? Me?"

And he is the most hated man in South Korea.

Kid Chaos was at it again Saturday night. A controversial Olympics finished in, what else, controversy. Ohno was disqualified in the semifinals of the men's 500-meter short-track speed skating for shoving Japan's Satoru Terao across the ice.

How else did you think it was going to end for Ohno, the powder keg of the Olympics? Of course, a judge was involved. Whenever Ohno skates, the rink turns into The People's Court. When short track holds its trials, the most important man in the place is the bailiff.

Ohno started slow and skated third for most of his semi. He attempted to pass Terao on the inside. Suddenly, Ohno's right elbow flared out, and Terao was spinning across the ice. And the South Koreans were looking up the translation of "poetic justice."

Odd. Ohno came into the night with the chance to become the second American, after Eric Heiden, to win four medals in one Olympics. Still, it felt a lot less like a run toward history than it did a street rumble. There was a lot of conjecture this place wasn't big enough for Ohno and South Korean Kim Dong-Sung.

Turns out, it didn't need to be. Kim was third in his semifinal, and Ohno was disqualified in his.

And a sellout crowd, with many wearing little fake beards that made them look like Shaggy in the Scooby-Doo cartoons (or for the older people among us, like Maynard in The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis), was disappointed. Perhaps by the lack of medals. Perhaps by the lack of mayhem.

It was strange, wasn't it, to see this little guy terrorize the Olympics. One competitor, Fabio Carta of Italy, suggested someone take a rifle to Ohno. The way Carta skates, however, he's likely to be out of range.

Not so long ago, when people were talking of Ohno winning four gold medals, he seemed like the perfect poster boy for these Games. And perhaps he still is. He's young. He's new wave. He's American. And he's controversial.

My goodness. Ohno is the perfect Olympian.

Things change. In one short week, Ohno has gone from the cover of Sports Illustrated to the cover of Police Gazette. He has been cut and criticized, sliced and spammed. He has swallowed his protest and endured South Korea's. He has fouled and been fouled.

And still, the turmoil swirls around him.

The first time Ohno raced, he was involved in a four-skater pileup that left him with a six-stitch gash and a silver medal. There were those who suggested if anyone were disqualified, it should have been Ohno.

The second time Ohno raced, he seemed to be second again. But a protest took the gold from the hands of Kim and put it into the hands of Ohno.

Talk about your unwanted e-mail. The next day, 16,000 of them were sent in protest, jamming the Olympic server. Some included death threats.

The FBI was called in. A Utah state policeman was brought in as a bodyguard. Although it should be admitted he did not skate fast enough to keep up.

All in the name of short track.

Go figure.

In South Korea, short-track skating is immensely more popular than it is here. Some would suggest the Koreans love short track the way we love luge. And so there were reports of angry fans rushing into the streets and frantically beseeching each other: "Doesn't short-track skating look awfully goofy?"

In the name of international brotherhood, the answer is yes, it does.

It is a roller-derby looking sport in which a skater goes from first to fourth to third to second to fourth to first, and hopefully, the blood on the ice doesn't turn out to be his. It is fast. It is frantic, and afterward, everyone argues a lot.

It is Ohno's sport. So of course, all of the trouble is Ohno's fault. It has to be. Who else are you going to blame?

Even when Kim was squeezed out in his semifinal by Canada's Marc Gagnon, you figured he would find some way to blame Ohno.

Just you watch. Before nightfall, Ohno will be accused of more wrongdoing. Turns out, he was the French figure skating judge. He's the guy who told Wayne Gretzky no one liked Canada.

He's the guy who went up to Russian Olympic Committee president Leonid Tyagachev, like Iago, and suggested Russia not put up with bad jobs anymore. He's the guy who suggested Ganbat Jargalanchuluun, the 15-year-old from Mongolia, buy a vowel.

It was his sad suggestion to include 'N Sync in the Closing Ceremony.

Blame Ohno.

Everyone else does.

Say this much for Ohno, however. He made you pay attention to this silly little sport. Maybe he made you happy. Maybe he made you angry. Maybe he made you talk.

Maybe in four years, he'll make you watch again.

[Lori]

Man, you're fast, Number1 - I went to get the "One Thing Perfectly" article, and BAM! you had it up! I'd KILL for your database! [blue]But YEAH, h*** (meaning 'heck') YEAH, that's my favorite![/blue]

Soooooooo, I'll have to come up with something else...

This is from Sintha on an old thread - 'don't know who the interviewer was or any other details...

How are you suited for short track speed skating?

Apolo: I’m half Japanese and my dad is pretty short, so I’m pretty short to begin with. That’s short track speed skating. You look at long track (speed skaters), those guys are just enormous – they’re huge. I’m pretty short. I don’t think it’s so much about my build, it’s more just I have the talent on the ice. I have a feel for the ice. That’s something that I was given a gift and I don’t see any reason for me to throw that away. And it’s a sport I love. I go out there every single day and there’s not one day I don’t want to be out there. I skate eight times a week, every single day. So it’s pretty hard.

What do you mean by having a ‘feel for the ice?’

Apolo: It’s just like I have my skates under me and I guess some people describe it as having no skates on your feet. It’s kind of like running out there. Everything’s connected. It doesn’t look like you have any kind of mechanics on your body, just looks like you’re free skating and for me, I just feel the ice. I can feel it under my feet, I can feel it under my toes, I feel every ripple in the ice and I feel that’s something that contributes a lot to my success.

You formerly were an inline skater. Is there anything from inline that transfers to short track skating?

Apolo: Just some of the basic muscles I used for inline, but other than that short track is just a totally different ballgame. It’s just a big difference between the skating and trading.

If you weren’t skating now, what would you be doing?

Apolo: I think going to school full time. That’s one of the biggest drawbacks from skating is in order to train at such a high, competitive level, you have to take away a lot of time from school and studying. That’s why I respect Danny Weinstein so much. I don’t know how he does it. He still makes our teams, and he still performs well, but he’s going to Harvard. That’s something I think everyone on our team looks up to Danny for.

Your father, Yuki, sent you to Lake Placid when you were 14 to train for short track speed skating. How difficult was it to leave home at such a young age?

Apolo: The first time he took me to the airport, he took me there and said goodbye and then he left and I called one of my friends to pick me up from the airport and I went to his house, so I was gone for a little bit. He was pretty angry when he found out about that, but I was so young, I was totally rebellious against anything – my dad or anyone with authority. The second time he shipped me out there I went there for sure.
I hated the first month I was out there in Lake Placid. Being moved from Seattle to New York is a big change, especially Lake Placid, being such a small town. I’ve never been in that kind of environment where I kind of felt caged. Then I started to have fun and my coach really persuaded me that I could become one of the best in the world and it just became fun. I was away from home at 14 years old and all I had to do was train and go to school. That was a blast.

Tell us about your father.

Apolo: Dad is just my pops, I guess. He’s strict, but he’s always been there to support me all the way. I think I get my work ethic from him. My dad is definitely one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met in my life. I respect my dad is so many ways like that. He’s trying to run a business at the same time, but he would rather try to support me and help me out 110 percent of the way. That’s something real special.

Your father runs a hairstyling business. Will you let him do your hair?

Apolo: He wants to do my hair. I don’t think he knew I really grew it out this long. When he saw me in Calgary (at a World Cup race), he was a bit surprised. But yeah, he cuts my hair sometimes.

In the past you thought about putting your hair into dreadlocks. Are you still thinking about sporting the dreads?

Apolo: No, usually my hair’s in braids when I’m in Colorado. Some of my friends usually braid it, but right now I’m kind of relaxing a little bit.

You’re first name isn’t exactly common. What’s the story behind it?

Apolo: My father gave me that name. The ‘Ap’ of my name means ‘to lead,’ like away. And the ‘Lo’ means ‘away from’ and the ‘O’ connects it. So the whole meaning is ‘to lead away from.’ It’s a Greek origin.

Did anyone ever make fun of it?

Apolo: No, no one made fun of it. I made sure of that.

[Lori]

...And this is definitely one of the best RECENT ones to come out!

NEED FOR SPEED
Ashley Jude Collie



Olympic gold medalist Apolo Anton Ohno talks about skating his way to the top - on the ice and off.

Swoosh! His blades cut the ice at the Utah Olympic Oval with wordless poetry, as his powerful legs propel his body around the track at speeds greater than 30 mph. The soul patch on his chin, colorful headband and intense focus are his trademarks. Millions around the world now know Olympian-turned-TV star Apolo Anton Ohno. At 25, the young, vibrant Renaissance man exemplifies a new kind of athlete, earning just as much fame off the ice for his dance moves.

The eight-time U.S. National Short Track speed skating champion and defending 500-meter Olympic gold medalist is training intensely for the 2007-2008 season. The season, which started in September and includes six World Cup meets, concludes in March at the Short Track World Championships in South Korea. As Ohno continues to glide past his U.S. teammates, he also has set his sights on the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia, where he aims to become the most medaled male U.S. Winter Olympian in history. At five medals, he's currently tied with former U.S. speed skater Eric Heiden.

"If you're going to do something," Ohno says, "then do it with everything you've got."

Securing the Olympic record for medals would put a dramatic exclamation point on Ohno's storied skating career. His busy post-skating life, however, has already begun.

On May 22 - his 25th birthday - Ohno and his professional dance partner, Julianne Hough, won the top-rated ABC TV competition show, "Dancing with the Stars." The show pairs a cast of stars with professional dancers in a flashy competition, where judges critique performances and viewers call in votes for their favorite pair. Ohno was soon invited to appear on TV talk shows and in countless magazines. Hollywood offers rolled in. People magazine named him one of its "hottest bachelors." The skater had become a crossover star.

But in his native Seattle, where he's a hometown hero, Ohno's friends say he's still the same down-to-earth young man, despite his athletic and Hollywood success - even if he does have a few more gadgets and toys these days.

"He's the most real celebrity, the most honest, good person with a head firmly on his shoulders," says Seattle entrepreneur and friend Yale Wong, 40. "Even if he's in a rush, he [is poised] and makes time to make [people] feel special, no matter who they are. We could all learn from that."

After practice at the Olympic Oval in Kearns, Utah, the new home for the U.S. short track team, Ohno obliges every autograph and photo request, even while conducting business on his iPhone. Through it all, he smiles calmly. When his fans are satisfied, Ohno sends a text message to his publicity agent about an upcoming photo shoot, where he'll sport one of his custom-made business suits. He jumps into his new toy, a sleek 1964 Cadillac DeVille convertible, waves to his fans and motors off.

Finding the Right Track
Ohno's meteoric trajectory to the top easily could have been derailed at an early age. His parents divorced when he was a baby. Raised by his father, Yuki, a salon owner in Seattle's Belltown neighborhood, Apolo admits that he had a lot of energy to burn as a young teen - and often got into trouble. To keep his son busy, Yuki Ohno enrolled Apolo in competitive swimming and in-line and speed-skating programs.

"Sports - and then short track - [were] a way for me to channel that energy into something positive," Apolo says.

From the start, Apolo showed the tremendous potential that his father had suspected.

"He had no fear," Yuki says. "When I saw him on the short track, I had no doubt that this kid would do something amazing."

In 1997, at age 14, Apolo won the U.S. National Short Track Championship. But success came too quickly.

"I was so young," he says. "Winning was a lot of pressure, and I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know you're supposed to train in the off-season. There was a lack of being coached by the right people. I was a kid growing up with these huge expectations of being the next U.S. Olympic gold medalist, but I just wanted to go home and have a barbecue in Seattle."

Overweight, under-trained and feeling lost, Ohno finished last at the Olympic trials the following January and failed to qualify for the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan. "I had climbed to the mountain top, then fell right down to the bottom," he says.

His father says it was difficult to watch his son compete "like a wounded lion being chased by a pack of hyenas." To help protect Apolo's love for the sport, Yuki staged an intervention. He drove Apolo to a remote rental cabin near the coast in Iron Springs, Wash., and told his son to think about what he wanted to do with his life. He left the teen for a week with provisions - and the tough love worked.

The epiphany Apolo experienced during his week alone changed him forever, the skater says.

"My dad was smart," Ohno says. "I remember going for a long run and coming to a turning point - should I keep running or turn around? It was pouring rain, I was tired and training mindlessly, and I asked, 'What am I doing?' I stopped, sat on a rock and basically prayed. I said, 'If it's meant to be, please give me the strength to keep running.'"

Ohno finished his run, returned to the cabin and called his father back in Seattle, telling him he planned to dedicate his life to short track skating.

Short track, which made its debut at the 1992 Winter Olympics, stepped into the limelight in 2002. It includes three individual distances - 500, 1,000 and 1,500 meters - and a 5,000-meter team relay. With all its thrills, spills and action, short track attracts the American public with "speed, excitement, personalities and danger," Ohno says.

"At age 15, I found my goal," he says. "I didn't know I was going to become a five-time Olympic medalist, but that's the message I try to spread now: No matter what situation you're in, if you believe in yourself, if you prepare and sacrifice, you'll succeed. It's not about winning or losing - it really isn't."

Going for Gold
Later in 1998, Ohno recalls, his "competitive fire started brewing" with his first individual Short Track World Cup win in the 1,000 meters. In 1999, he reclaimed the overall U.S. National Championship, then won gold in the 3,000 meters and the 5,000-meter relay at the World Championships in 2001. At the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake City, he was expected to finally realize his potential.

The lessons he'd learned by overcoming adversity early in his skating career gave him strength as he prepared for the Salt Lake City Games, Ohno says. An occasional philosopher, the skater paraphrases one of his favorite quotes from the late Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis:

"[Kazantzakis] said we shouldn't be so concerned about winning and losing," Ohno says. "What is important is to carry the struggle further. That can translate to any sport, profession or walk of life. On my hardest days, that quote gives me strength."

Ohno drew inspiration from this mantra in his first Olympic final, the 1,000-meter individual competition. In the race, Ohno led the pack, but a competitor triggered his major wipeout within sight of the finish line - and the gold medal. Ohno got up immediately and finished the race. "I always say, 'I won the silver, I didn't lose the gold,'" he recalls. "I got back up and carried the struggle further, just like [Kazantzakis] said."

Before a captivated TV audience, Ohno went on to win gold in the 1,500-meter individual race.

Olympic Encore
Even with silver and gold medals in hand after 2002, the thrill of competition remained fresh for Ohno. At the 2006 Olympics in Turin, Italy, he took bronze in the 1,000-meter individual race and added a gold medal in the 500-meter competition. To cap his Olympic success that year, Ohno helped capture the bronze in the 5,000-meter team relay.

"It was just like organized chaos out there," he says of the relay. "[It was] absolutely exciting and great to share with my teammates."

After Turin, Ohno considered ending his skating career on top. First, he took time off to survey his options, returning to Seattle to relax with his father. He also spent time with his friend and mentor, Wong.

Ohno began exploring various business opportunities, including real estate, and seeking business advice from Wong, who became a millionaire after selling his dot-com company, Compass Communications, in 2004.

"We [would] go to some great hole-in-the-wall restaurants and talk business strategy," Wong says. "He's always keen to learn about the angles. He's really a sharp guy, and it's amazing how he can keep it all together. At 25, he's already planning his future and how to get there."

Ohno surprised many observers by returning to skating in February 2007 to win his eighth overall U.S. National title. In March, he took gold in the 1,500-meter individual race at the World Championships.

This past spring, he made the leap from sports to Hollywood with "Dancing with the Stars." The TV competition increased his confidence, Ohno says.

"It's interesting that something like dance, which I knew nothing about before, could evoke a personality change like that," he says. "The show gave me an opportunity to just be myself on camera, let people inside to see not only the athletic side of Apolo, but also my other facets. That's what resonated with viewers."

Apolo Rising
Taking time off to ponder retirement gave Ohno new perspective on his beloved sport - and the drive that helped him capture individual gold at the most recent World Championships.

"I realized I still have a jones for the sport," he says. "I'm blessed with a gift. I still love competing, but I'm now at a point where I'm not out to prove anything. Now I can just enjoy it and represent the U.S. one more time at the Games - and hopefully set an example for the millions of people watching."

He says he's proud of his country and his Japanese-American heritage, which reflects America's growing diversity.

"We are the melting pot of the world," Ohno says. "Everyone comes here. I'm very proud of my father's Japanese heritage, but I'm also very proud to be American."

Ohno's appeal seems guaranteed to grow. After he skates his last race, his recent crossover success offers plenty of career options.

"I love cars and speed," Ohno says of just one possibility. "I love going fast, that's always been kind of my thing. I drove the pace car at the 2007 Indianapolis 500. Down the road, I'd love to try auto racing. Life is too short. Why not?"

Emerald City Prince
Apolo Ohno is an unabashed fan of his native Seattle and the Pacific Northwest. "Through the change of seasons, the Northwest is incredibly beautiful, even when it's raining," he says. "The people are friendly, it's a place of commerce and a great place to raise families. Whenever I come here, it's coming back home. This is where I'll settle after my speed skating career."
When touring his hometown, Ohno suggests visitors explore some of the Emerald City's many islands and waterfront areas.

"Because of its beauty, you've got to check out places like Mercer Island, Bellevue and Alki Beach (pictured above), with its great view back to the city," he says. "Seattle is such a happening city - it really offers quite a lot."

For seafood lovers - including sushi devotees - Seattle is a dining Mecca.

Ohno's favorites include Hana Restaurant, a Japanese venue in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. The skater touts the restaurant's beef teriyaki bowl as the best in town. Located at 219 Broadway E. Call 206-328-1187.

He also recommends I Love Sushi, which has three locations. His favorite, the flagship Bellevue Main location, features a variety of tofu specialties. Located at 11818 N.E. 8th St. Call 425-454-5706.

[Lori]

This one is only peripherally about Apolo (he's only mentioned in the first few paragraphs), but it confirms what we already know about him - he has a big heart.

PARALYMPIC SUMMIT HELD FOR WOUNDED VETS
Wounded veterans show determination at Paralympic Military Summit in Colorado

COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo., Jan. 21, 2007
By HUGO KUGIYA AP National Writer



(AP) In the dining hall of the U.S. Olympic Complex, instantly recognizable speedskating champion Apolo Anton Ohno sat at a large, round table, talking to some unrecognizable young men who had gathered to meet him after the dinner rush ended. But on this night, it turns out Ohno was the ordinary guy.

Around him were men who, leaning to one side, wearing baggy shirts, sitting quietly with their hands in their laps, only looked ordinary.

One of Bill Wright's legs is mangled, but at least he has both of them. Anthony Smith's right arm is missing and he doesn't have much of a hip anymore, just a mass of bone-hard scar tissue. Luke Murphy's one leg, if you can still call it a leg, is burned and shriveled and held together by a dozen screws and a series of rings that look like scaffolding.

They are not Olympians, or hopefuls, or even athletes just yet. They are soldiers, or at least they were once.

"We trained hard, too, but we didn't win a gold medal," Murphy, 25, an army sergeant, told Ohno.

The meeting, during which they talked about their hometowns and classic cars, seemed to earn the skater's awe.

"It was an honor for me," he said.

After Ohno left, Murphy explained, "I just wanted to meet a gold medalist."

The occasion for the meeting was the Paralympic Military Summit, an expenses-paid sports clinic for wounded veterans, most of them still patients at Brooke Army Medical Center near San Antonio, Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C., or the James A. Haley Veterans Administration Medical Center in Tampa, Fla.

The summit is a taste of the life of an Olympian, a chance to sleep and eat like one, to get instruction in the same facilities, to compete in an event or two, to test-drive their new $30,000 prosthetics, to tease and cheer and make small talk, to feel, for a few days, like life hasn't changed all that much.

Murphy described the purpose of the weekend as the vague but important need to "get stuff straight in my head."

"It's weird to see people back home doing the same things they were doing before the war," Murphy said. "You know, going to bars, getting drunk, stupid stuff. Nothing's different. Life is so fragile. That's why it's good to be able to come here."

Since the start of the Iraq war, almost 20,000 soldiers have been injured. More than 500 are amputees, owing mostly to insurgents' roadside bombs.

"During Desert Storm, we saw injuries related to tanks flipping over, or driving a Humvee too fast, or friendly fire," said Cathy Williams, a physical therapist at the Tampa VA.

"We're seeing a lot more amputations because of the kind of ballistics used," said Robert d'Angelo, a physician's assistant in the Amputee Center at Brooke.

Yet, more soldiers than ever, about 90 percent compared to about 70 percent during the Vietnam War era, are surviving their wounds thanks to better armor, advances in field medicine and the swiftness with which the wounded are transported to hospitals.

Some of these survivors are candidates for the U.S. Paralympic team.

The first Paralympic Games (short for Parallel Olympics) were held in 1960, and the first winter games followed in 1976. They are held at the same time and in the same place as the regular Olympic Games.

Often confused with the Special Olympics, the Paralympics began in 1948 as a sports competition for wounded British veterans, held on the lawn of a hospital in southern England. Although the games started as a vehicle for soldiers, the vast majority of Paralympic athletes today are accident victims, cancer survivors, or those with birth defects.

The Paralympics are governed the same way as the regular games. There are 22 summer sports, 4 winter sports. Each sport has different categories to accommodate the range of disabilities. Swimming alone has 12 categories. The competition is fierce and top-notch.

For the U.S. Olympic Committee (of which paralympics are a division), the purpose of the military summits _ several are held during the year _ is to stir interest and cultivate a potentially important pipeline of athletes.

"You can already feel the difference" made by the casualties of the war, said Beth Bourgeois, spokeswoman for the U.S. Paralympics.

But for the veterans, the purpose is something much more basic.

"Right now they're having to ask themselves some difficult questions," said John Register, himself a former world-class athlete, a veteran of Desert Storm, and an amputee, who helped run the summit. "They're asking, 'Who am I now? Am I still a father? Am I still a husband or wife?' Sports help put answers to some of those questions."

Register, 41, lost his leg 12 years ago as the result of a freak accident unrelated to the war; he suffered a severe hyperextension of his knee while running hurdles and severed a major artery.

"Sports helps you test what's inside," Register said. "Hopefully they'll eventually see they are not that much different than before. This will help speed up that process. Family, religion, friendships, it all gets tested"

Advocates for the disabled predict Iraq veterans could account for 10 percent of the 500-member Paralympic team in 2012 in London.

Thus, the bonding and rigors of the Paralympic Military Summit _ which range from having a piece of red velvet cake in the Olympic complex cafeteria with Apolo Ohno to a competitive game of sitting volleyball or even a crash on the first turn of a wheelchair relay race.

That is what happened to Josh Stein that weekend a few weeks ago on an indoor track at the Air Force Academy. He narrowly avoided taking down another contestant. But he survived the spill just fine, discovering he is more durable than he thought after losing both legs above the knees in bomb blast.

In the group at the summit, there are many types _ quiet but cheerful, sober and wary, and then there is Stein, a running tap of jokes.

"If you're dull, nobody's going to like you," said the 23-year-old, who drew a face at the end of his thigh where the rest of his leg was taken. He also severely injured one arm.

Pfc. Stein, an Army brat who grew up on the Pacific island of Saipan, enlisted right after Sept. 11, 2001. He was driving an armored Bradley Fighting vehicle when it triggered an improvised explosive. The lower half of his body was shredded by darts of molten copper. He managed, somehow, to steer the vehicle about 100 yards to the safety of an embankment.

"There was a flash," he said. "I hit my head. I smelled something burning. That was me."

His goal is not so much the Paralympics or even to compete in a sport.

"I want to ride my dirt bike," he said. "You can't stop me."

These are not men out of touch with their limits. Ask Stein and Patrick Myers, 23, who also ran the wheelchair sprint, what has bedeviled them the most about their injuries and they'll say (in coarser terms), going to the bathroom.

"It's the simplest things you used to take for granted," Stein said.

An athlete in high school, James Stuck, 22, is sure he will someday savor a Paralympic moment.

He ran the 100 in less than 14 seconds at the summit, eight months after his right leg was amputated below the knee. The Paralympic standard is just shy of 11 seconds.

"With my size and my athletic ability, I figure I have a pretty good chance," he said.

Stuck, who learned to snowboard after his injury, counts himself as very lucky. The location of his amputation, leaving a healthy knee joint, was crucial to his mobility.

He has no memory of the explosive that injured him near Kirkuk. But he wants to remember it.

"I got all my X-rays in a portfolio. It's part of my life... I'm lucky to be alive, that's what I really believe. You never get used to it, but I accept what happened. I knew the consequences going in. I can't go back in time. I can't grow a new leg. This is what it's going to be."

Tawan Williamson, 30, who lost his leg, is another veteran with promise. From a seated position, he threw a discus 92 feet his first try.

"I'd like to see how far this can take me, maybe Beijing," where the Olympics will be held in 2008, said Williamson. "This has let me know the extent of what I can do."

Some of the soldiers at the summit did not initially choose to come.

The first time Anthony Smith attended, a year ago, it was on orders from his doctor. Once he arrived, he didn't want to leave his room.

"I told them if you don't come and get me, I'm not going," said Smith, a quartermaster in the Arkansas National Guard. "They kept coming to get me."

He was angry back then and let it show. In his mind, it was a lucky shot. And besides he was in Baghdad's fortified Green Zone, safe, he thought, ready for a game of cards and a workout.

He took a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade. The missile went through his hip and stomach before it exploded, throwing him against a brick wall. Shrapnel took his arm. The enemy fired several rounds at his maimed body. He was put in a body bag before a nurse noticed air bubbles oozing through the blood.

He was in a coma for 44 days and only recently regained most of his memory. He can walk with crutches. He has undergone dozens of surgeries and learned to write and throw a ball to his child with his left hand.

"People who are able-bodied, the pastor, the psychologist, the doctor, the therapist, I felt like they didn't understand," said Smith, who volunteered to attend two more summits. "When I'm here, I know I'm not the only one. This is our own little world."

It's a world in which the relative term known as happiness takes on remarkable dimensions. Take Daniel Robles, 35, once "big, bad drill Sgt. Robles, now bilateral amputee Robles," as he puts it.

He was five years from retirement when he was deployed to Iraq. He was on his way to investigate a weapons cache south of Baghdad when his convoy hit a roadside bomb. He lost one leg instantly. What remained of the other barely dangled. He tied his own tourniquet so hard it broke off.

"Most people put on their pants in the morning," he said. "I put on my legs. I don't have anything to complain about. Any day walking is a good day. I get a chance to watch my daughter (who is 5) grow up."

[Lori]

Did you know that Apolo was responsible for a Washington Redskins victory? This one is from a comment at OZ - it's a couple of excerpts from an article in the Washington Post:

==========

POSTER: I heard on the local sports news this AM that Washington attributed their NFL win on Sunday to viewing an inspirational video of Short Track Speed Skating! An article in the Washington Post mentioned it too - here's a quote:

While Coach Steve Spurrier made lineup changes at quarterback and wide receiver prior to the Tennessee game to spur his struggling offense, [Marvin] Lewis kept the same parts in place on defense. He simply wanted his players to perform better, to stop blowing assignments and missing tackles. And he wanted them to remain optimistic that a turnaround was near.... The night before the Tennessee game, Lewis showed his players a tape of the men's 1,000-meter short-track speedskating final at the Salt Lake City Olympics, in which Australian Steven Bradbury won the gold medal after the four skaters ahead of him -- including American Apolo Anton Ohno -- crashed on the final turn... [Fred] Smoot said: "The message was that things might look ugly now, but they can get better."

RESPONSE BY ANOTHER POSTER WHO ALSO READ THE ARTICLE: one player commented that the coach's main point to them was 'watch the reaction of the one who finished second' (Apolo)....'he never gave up....he could have just sat there and pouted, but he didn't. He scrambled to the finish line in second place.'

===============

Moral: You never know how far-reaching a never-say-die attitude can be!

[number1fan]

here's a youtube link to one of his gtn engagements...he's awesome
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNtMm0tp7Vk

Apolo Ohno Five-Time Olympic Medalist
Exclusive Representation by Greater Talent Network

Apolo Anton Ohno became the best short-track skater in the United States in less than two years, when he began his career in 1995. At fourteen years of age, after training under Pat Wentland in Lake Placid for just six months, Ohno claimed his first overall title at the U.S. Championships. He is now a five-time Olympic medalist, including two gold medals.

Apolo Anton Ohno competed in the Torino 2006 Olympics, winning one gold and two bronze medals. In Salt Lake City 2002 Olympics, he won both a gold and silver medal in short-track speed skating. Although Ohno did succeed as an Olympic medalist, his road to success wasn't easy.

Ohno's original success at fourteen made him a likely candidate to make the 1998 U.S. Olympic team, but he struggled with his fitness throughout the 1997-1998 season and finished 16th at the Olympic Trials. Ohno, then fifteen, came to a crossroads in his short-track career when he didn't make the 1998 U.S. Olympic team and needed to decide if he wanted to continue skating.

He committed himself to making the 2002 Olympic squad, and by the 2000-01 season he was one of the world's best skaters. The Seattle native won the World Cup title in the 500m, 1000m, and 1500m en route to winning the overall crown, which made him the first American to win a World Cup title at any distance.

Making the Olympic team in 2002, Ohno went on to win Olympic Gold in the 1500m and a silver in the 1000m. Four years, three World Cup overall titles later, Torino witnessed a stronger, leaner and poised Ohno gracefully capture two bronze medals (1000m and Relay) and his second Gold in the self-proclaimed "perfect race" in the 500m.

Ohno recently claimed another title as season three champion of the ABC hit, "Dancing with the Stars." After ten weeks of competing with his partner, International Latin Youth Champion, Julianne Hough in dances such as the Cha Cha, Tango and Waltz, Ohno and Hough beat out former 'N Sync member Joey Fatone and world female super middleweight boxing champion Laila Ali in the final Freestyle dance to bring home the gold.

"You put your mind to something, you give 100 percent, sacrifice and dedication,
anything is possible."

At the podium, Ohno discusses his journey from a rambunctious and rule-breaking teenager to an Olympic gold medalist. His anecdotes are endearing and heart-felt, but also emphasize the importance of finding one's path, committing to it, and reaping the benefits of hard work.

At A Glance: His autobiography, entitled "A Journey: The Autobiography of Apolo Anton Ohno," written for young adults, offers readers a glimpse into the life of the youngest U.S. athlete to win a World Cup title. Ohno pays a tribute to his greatest influence - his father, and describes his road to success, including all the failures and setbacks which eventually brought him to any athlete's most coveted victory - an Olympic gold medal.

www.greatertalent.com/speakers/speakers.php?speakerid=619

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Interested in booking Apolo Ohno to speak at your next event?

Contact Greater Talent Network,
America's Leading Celebrity Speakers Bureau.

212.645.4200
[e-mail]

[jennaceeta25]

The Apolo Anton Ohno interview
By Danielle Appelman // USOC Media Services // September 20, 2006
Visit USA Speedskating



When the world last saw Apolo Anton Ohno, he was standing high upon a podium listening to the “Star Spangled Banner” as his nation’s flag was raised. Around Ohno’s neck was the gold medal he had just won after the 500 meter or, as he puts it, his “perfect race.” It was no surprise that when Ohno arrived at the airport, his luggage weighed a bit more—he was, after all, carrying an additional gold medal and two bronze medals. Seven months later, Ohno is back living and training at the U.S. Olympic Complex in Colorado Springs. Olympic Beat Magazine caught up with him to find out what his feelings are looking back at the Olympic Games, what his future holds and even if he’ll ever appear on “Dancing with the Stars.”
What have you been doing since the end of the 2006 Olympic Winter Games in Torino?
“Oh man…a lot. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, a lot of speaking engagements. I’ve definitely entered the entertainment world much more than I think most Olympic athletes have so I’ve been able to experience that strange world. I’ve been doing a lot of TV work and even been exploring the possibility of doing movies. I’ve been on a couple of movie sets, speaking directly to a lot of high profile actors. Basically, just hanging out like a movie star would and trying to see what it’s really like behind the scenes. Acting is something that I wanted to explore. It’s not something that I immediately wanted to say, ‘No, I don’t want to do that.’ I look forward to taking some serious acting lessons. I guess the roles for me would have to be authentic, though, and I would have to really find my niche market. It was fun. The experience was really entertaining, and I got to see some pretty amazing actors just turn it on when they needed to.”

Which actor were you most excited to meet?
“The one I was most impressed with was Jim Carrey. Being on his set and watching him after he had a conversation with me, close his door and basically come outside of his trailer a completely different person within five, ten seconds. He was no longer Jim Carrey. You know, we all think of Jim Carrey as this funny actor but he’s pretty diverse, which I thought was amazing. I was really impressed.”

Are there any other aspects of the entertainment business besides acting that interest you?
“I would like to bring Olympic sports or at least the struggle that athletes go through to the public. People don’t really see what the Olympic athletes go through in between the quads. There’s a lot of Americans that are interested who would want to watch a real reality show. I have so many ideas, but I would be really interested in trying to create and orchestrate something that gives the Olympic athletes and those that are in contention for a medal more spotlight. There’s nothing better than watching real people’s lives. There’s a lot of heartache and a lot of success that goes through the Olympic Training doors. That’s pretty powerful.”

How did Torino compare to Salt Lake City?
“It was different. Me - being a returning athlete - my expectations were high again. My last Olympic Games, I was like 19 years old, basically a little kid. I had high expectations, but at the same time didn’t really have any because it was my first Olympic Games. In Torino, I was definitely marked, and it didn’t go as smoothly as Salt Lake…not that Salt Lake went smooth either. The entire experience was different, especially being on foreign soil. The U.S. Games were easy to navigate because we had everything at our fingertips, but in Torino it was foreign. So we had to adapt, deal with a lot of injuries and equipment problems that normally we wouldn’t have if we were back competing in the United States. It was unbelievable from start until finish. The month that I was there was pure intensity. Many sleepless nights.”

Did the pressure and all the expectations coming into Torino get to you?
“Oh, yeah - absolutely the pressure got to me - everyday. I don’t know if it affected my performance, but it’s there and it’s real. I can’t say that there’s no pressure or that it didn’t bother me at all because that’s not true. Of course it did. I’d like to think that I performed better and that I rose to the occasion.”

Where do you keep your five medals?
“It depends where I am. Sometimes I bring them with me. Sometimes I keep them with my dad in Seattle. Sometimes they are here in Colorado Springs.”

Speedskating no longer has a head coach; are you doing anything to help them find someone new?
“I’ve been working hard on trying to find someone to take over the new head coaching position. I’m like the only one who’s been able to grind and get some coaches to interview. So it’s been a little frustrating.”

Why is there such a high turnover rate for coaching in Speedskating?
“Mismanagement—I’ve had 11 coaches since I’ve been skating. That’s 11 coaches in the past 10 years. It’s kind of crazy.”

What are you looking for in a future coach?
“Well I’m looking for the perfect coach, and there is none. I’m trying to develop a dream team, and hopefully the USOC will support that. I know right now our competition - Canada is obviously going to be very strong in 2010 because of the home ice, but their funding pool is huge so there’s no real problem with the budget. Korea has no budget because they are funded directly through the government so basically it’s like, ‘Oh, what do you need? You need this, this, and this, okay.’ And then China is the same way. So those three are the kind of super powers in our sport, and they’ve really raised the bar. If we don’t do something, then we are going to be really behind. We’re behind already. We want to get a coach as soon as possible. But it’s hard to set a timetable. We’re trying to get a head coach and then two assistant coaches, and if the coaches can’t coexist in the same environment then we have to go back to the drawing board. That’s what we are doing right now. We’ve picked somebody, but now it’s an issue of negotiating salary and contracts.

Have you decided if you will compete in the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver?
“I’m not sure yet. I haven’t fully committed. The options are definitely there.”

What is holding you back from committing?
“Life—just the realities of life. As Olympic athletes, we mature so much on one level of our Olympic journey and on the other aspects, we are still just a baby because we dedicate so much time and sacrifice so much with school, social life and work for this. I’ve been doing this since I was 14 so this is 10 years in the hole now. So, I’ve missed a large portion of my life. I’m not saying I wish I would not have done that but the fact is that I’m not going to be able to get that portion of my life back, which I think is very important in developing the character of a person or the foundation for your future. And also I have five medals; I’m a two-time gold medalist back-to-back in 2002 and 2006, and in my sport that is basically unheard of. It just doesn’t happen, and I’ve accomplished every single goal I could have accomplished in my sport. If I walked away right now, I would be 100% happy and content in my performances. But that’s also a really cool position to be in right now. I still love skating, and I think there’s still a lot of stuff I have to work on. There’s a lot of things I want to improve on and whenever I go to the Games, for some reason I have been blessed to give a voice or set some kind of example—whether it’s good or bad, and hopefully I’ve been able to carry myself in the right way, but now I can kind of understand and see how I can lead a team going into the next Games. I see how much of a role I could play in speedskating as a whole, how it’s viewed in the United States and how our country should be represented. We should be clean athletes. We should be working extremely hard. We should be dedicated and we should always keep our chins high regardless of the outcome and show that we are strong—because we are strong people. So I think there’s that opportunity to show that, and there’s a reason I was given the gift to speedskate. Maybe I haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m definitely thinking about coming back.”

Is there a timetable that you’ve set to announce if you will try to compete in 2010?
“Sometime this year, I will decide. I don’t know when it will be. It could be in two weeks, a week. It could be four months from now. I don’t know. There are some things that have to be in order. There has to be the right coaches there, the right teammates there to help train, the funding has to be available and my own personal sponsors have to be there. If everything is in place then absolutely I’m going to keep going because you take the top 1% of our population and you have the athletes. Then you take the top 1% of that and that’s like the medalists. So as Olympians, we are at a percentage of the world that is so small, and this is the only time in my life that I can really skate. I can’t skate 10 years from now. My investment goals and opportunities will probably still be there but skating won’t and the Olympic dream won’t. There’s no other competition, no other feeling inside and out, that’s more powerful and more special to me than the Olympic Games.”

Are you worried about staying motivated since you already have five medals?
“No way. For me, motivation comes in different levels. When I was young, it was like ‘I want to win, win, win, win, win.’ Now I see the competition that’s out there and where the sport is going and now it’s a matter of me evolving with the sport and me changing with the sport. I did it before 2002. I was able to do it before 2006, which was very hard, and if I can do it before 2010 then hopefully I would be shooting for the podium again.”

Of all the races you’ve done (Olympic or non-Olympic) which is your most memorable?
“I think the 500 meter in the Torino Olympics was my favorite. Just because of the injuries I was struggling with, and these are all things that we didn’t let the media necessarily know about. There were just a lot of the issues that I was having there. And then my first race I was the defending gold medalist in the 1500 meter, and I slip in the semifinal because of these things. Just the mental turmoil that did on me, it was a pretty crushing feeling because you know that you’re better than that. And I watched those guys in the final, and I knew I could compete with them, but I wasn’t given the opportunity. Then I go in the 1000 meter and I came back, started to feel a little better and I got a bronze medal. I was hesitant for a split second, and I’m not kidding you when I say it was for a split second, and it cost me the opportunity of moving up two spots and getting a gold or a silver. So, I was definitely happy getting a bronze but I just had this feeling inside me that was eating away every night. It was very hard because every single day, I would wake up and just cycle through the race over and over again. It was kind of tormenting. It was just torturing me because I kept thinking about it and thinking about it. Thinking, ‘What if I did this?' or 'What if I did that?’ I couldn’t help it. The last race was just perfect. I remember getting to the rink earlier in the day and warming up and just smiling. Not knowing that I was going to win, but just knowing that this was my place today - this is why I like skating. It was a very special moment. Everything in that race happened for a reason, and if one of those things was out of place then the race results might have been different. That’s why I call it the perfect race because everything had to happen in order for me to win the race. I just think there’s a reason behind it.”

How do you deal with getting recognized all the time out in public?
“Yeah, I get recognized fairly often I think. It’s kind of crazy. There’s been some crazy late night wake-up calls. I think I’ve gotten used to it, but it’s still pretty cool to me. I think it’s pretty cool when a family comes up and says, ‘Oh Apolo, you’ve really had an impact on my daughter or my son’s life,' or when they say ‘We think you represented our country very well.’ That’s pretty cool. It’s better than, ‘Man, you rock!’ That’s cool, too, but just on a different level. We still have to hit that market I guess.”

If you could be on any reality TV show, which would it be?
“I would do the ‘Amazing Race’ and pick Olympic Athletes from here. We would just tear it up. We would just tear those fools up.”

Who would you pick to be on your team?
“[Triathlete] Mark Fretta! I would pick Mark and then get a wrestler because wrestlers are crazy. They never say die. They’re just great athletes, even if physically they’re not stronger than you, they are going to find a way to beat you and to outplay you.”

Have you ever been approached to be on a reality TV show?
“Yeah, but I don’t know. Some reality shows are so cheesy.”

Ten years from now where do you see yourself?
“Let’s see…I’ll be 34. I see myself traveling, but being based in Seattle, living in a sky-rise condominium overlooking the city and the water. Hopefully, depending on what direction I’m going in, creating green living, environmentally sound living—trying to be very efficient in energy usage and materials, also trying to preserve the landscape and trees. I don’t know—I just like that healthier living. I think I would like to be a promoter of that kind of stuff or creating communities that don’t just crosscut sections of land. I would like to do something like we have here or in Seattle where we have a lot of trees. I don’t know…one day I’ll set up my own corporation called ‘Podium A.O., Inc.’ or something just to accomplish all these ideas I have.”

Being from Seattle which is your favorite sports team: Mariners, Seahawks, or Sonics?
“I like them all, but if I had to pick…I guess the Seahawks. I try to go to games whenever I’m back in town, but I don’t get to go that often. I spent a lot of time in Seattle this summer with my family, spending time with my father; so that was a lot of fun.”

What are the three places that someone who has never been to Seattle has to go to?
“Pike Place Market—it’s the fish market. It’s down by the water, always a lot of fun, and lots of energy. It’s always packed, lots of tourists, but it’s a lot of fun. There are a lot of trendy neighborhoods now in Seattle, a lot like San Francisco, but not as busy. I think the people in Seattle are generally really nice—well except for the drivers, they get a bit crazy. And then we have a very big selection of foods. We have people from all over who own authentic, real places. It’s not a Chinese restaurant owned by a Hispanic person; it’s really a Chinese restaurant owned by a Chinese person. So, we have a lot of really good restaurants in Seattle. We have a lot of culture there too from all over. I love Seattle and would love to raise a family there… in about 400 years.”

Is your father still a hairdresser in Seattle and do you only go to him for your cuts?
“Yup, right there between 4th Avenue and Belltown. Just recently, the past couple of years, I’ve been getting someone else to cut my hair, and my hair is different now because of it. It’s flat. I don’t know what the deal is. And my dad tells me that, ‘Your cut is messed up, Apolo-san! You’re cut is all messed up’.”

What’s the best hair advice your father has ever given you?
“Don’t wear a hat. I don’t know…use conditioner. Oh, he did tell me something about when you’re on a plane. On a plane, your hair gets really dry and you should spray something in your hair—I never do that. But that’s what he says—your hair gets extremely dry in an airplane so you need to spray something in your hair or it’ll get damaged. Whatever---he would know.”

If you could travel back in time, where and when would you go?
“I would go back probably into the era of old Japan before it became westernized. I would like to experience old Japan, especially with me being half-Japanese. I would like to see that lifestyle. It was so much different, untouched, and kind of gated. They didn’t let anyone in or anyone out. They were very protected. They made a real effort to have their historical preservation. What they created as a people, I would like to see that.”

Do you still have family living in Japan?
“My grandmother still lives there. I was just there actually about two-and-a-half weeks ago. It was an awesome experience. I try to go back every year. I haven’t gone back the past couple of years, but it was special. I love it there.”

Is Japan your favorite place to travel to?
“Yeah, that’s my favorite place to go; that’s the first choice. Second would probably be Italy. I think Italy is beautiful. I really like Bormio, Italy. It’s a small ski town, but it’s close to the mountains, and you can really experience the Italian lifestyle. People are really nice, and it’s quiet. It’s not like Milan where it’s just this crazy mayhem. That’s one of the best parts about this job is we get to travel and have experiences that people in the world never have a chance to experience. That’s pretty cool.”

If you could host the ultimate dinner party, which three people (dead or living) would you invite and what would you eat?
“Abraham Lincoln—I just want to talk to him. I’d just like to see what he really says, what his true feelings were. We have what’s on paper and what people wrote about him. So I would like to see from his mouth what he was going through especially to be in a position like that. I would invite Jesus because that would be insane. And then I guess I would like to meet the very first of the Ohno family from Japan. And food—we would have whatever they wanted. Whatever Jesus wanted, whatever the man wanted—I’m not saying we’re not going for Mexican; hey if they want nachos, they can have nachos. They can have whatever they want, this one’s on me.”

Is it true you wear gloves with pink tips when you race?
“No! I’ve told this story before, and I think it’s just gotten twisted over the years. Two years ago, one of the girls on our team, Haley Kim, was traveling to Korea. In Korea they dip the gloves in this poxy resident to make a really smooth finish, and I like the way they make the tips of their gloves so that you can slide. And I gave her a pair of gloves, and I was like, ‘Haley, I don’t want any design, I just want them to be plain.’- because sometimes they put flowers or girlie stuff on them. So I told her specifically, ‘Haley I don’t want anything on there.’ So I get them back and I’m like, ‘What the hell is this? Haley, those are flowers on them!’ So they had flowers, and on the other side of the tips they had like ‘check,’ ‘shopping,’ and ’friends.’ So I’m in the World Cup and I’m getting ready to skate and I’m hiding my gloves under my armpits. The other skaters were probably like, ‘What’s up with this guy?’

What are your thoughts about the recent doping issues?
“I think it’s hard. You’d like to think that none of those athletes really did anything, but it’s hard. We are on a serious doping process. Olympic athletes undergo doping tests like none other sports. I’d like to think the majority of us are clean. I think it sucks that some people choose to cheat in their sport. I know a lot of athletes that it’s just not worth it to them from a moral standpoint. I look at athletes who are given this opportunity to shine and are on the podium, and to set an example for future generations, to be looked at as a historical figure as one of the best to ever live, and when that happens it sort of taints their legacy. I think it’s good that we are very harsh in our testing procedures. I want to focus on athletes who aren’t doping, who are clean, who abide by moral and ethical standards that should be upheld in our country. We should set an example for our future generations because that little MTV generation needs a lot of help.”

You sound like a politician, have you ever thought about running for office?
“No Way! No, no, no…I’ll leave that to [long track speed skater] Joey Cheek.”

Are you in school right now?
“Yeah, at the University of Colorado-Colorado Springs. I’m a junior, an old junior. Right now my major is marketing and international business, but I’m sure it’ll change because I kind of want to get more into development. I’ve been talking to one of my buddies here in the Training Center and he’s studying urban development, so that might be an aspect I’d like to study. But no matter what I go to school for I want to be involved in the Olympic movement somehow. I’d like to be involved somewhere on the side. I don’t think I would do coaching though. I could definitely be a great coach because I know a lot about the sport. I study human sport physiology all the time on my own and then take classes at school. I’m trying to get certified right now through the International Sports Science Federation. I haven’t started studying yet, but I have the packet, and I’m going to start studying for that.”

I hear you have a big screen TV in your room, so how many times do people just use you for the TV?
“We have hours they sign up for, and then people take turns—no not really, but you would be surprised how many athletes have big TVs in their room. Because we come here and we want to change our lives, and we want our rooms to be comfortable, but the rooms aren’t big; they are mad small. I’m lucky that I don’t have a roommate though. I did last year, but I would hope by this time that they would give me a special room. That’s my goal; I want one of those corner rooms. I’ve been here like 200 years! I get first choice on the team though. I mean I’m 24--I’m always on the phone or doing a lot of faxing or emails. I need a little bit of privacy.”

What do the next couple of months hold for you?
“Hopefully, I can get this coaching situation worked out with our NGB. I’m working on some very large sponsorships to help fund my dreams if I do decide to keep skating. And I’m going to try to just get back in shape. Hopefully, I’ll be around the training center more, and I’ll be in a lot more pain and getting thinner and thinner. I haven’t been skating yet since Torino. When it’s ready - when I’m ready - it’ll be time. I’ll start getting my legs again, but I’m very behind. No doubt. I’m very behind, but I’m not scared.”

When it’s all said and done, what do you want your legacy to be?
“I used to want to be the most decorated winter athlete of all time, but now I’m tied with Eric Heiden. I don’t know anymore. I definitely want to leave my mark in the Olympic path and dream. It’s hard to say. It would be really cool to be in some sort of museum, which is actually going to happen, but that’s still on the down low. I’m donating some of the real skates from 2002, the real skin suit from when I got cut that has the blood on it still, the real helmet and the real gloves. That kind of stuff and then I have some stuff from 2006, some pictures that I want to bring. For short track, Americans had never made a final on the men’s side especially. It was never looked at like a real sport, so to have the opportunity to really shine is cool. So I’d like to be remembered for that.”

www.usoc.org/11499_49193.htm

[Lori]

An old one - he was 20 yrs old...
...and this may very well exhaust my repertoire (I'm supposed to be putting together a summary for the SLC thread, but, well, I got caught up here) *sticking out tongue at Mtnme* for starting such a captivating thread...

Go 2 Guy: A flash on the ice, Apolo Anton in no hurry to find the future Mrs. Ohno
By JIM MOORE

For the longest time, I had nothing on my notepad.
And everywhere I turned at the P-I Sports Star of the Year banquet, there were my bosses, doing what I wanted to be doing -- drinking and schmoozing.

As you know, those are the Go 2 Guy's strengths. But last night I was playing to my weaknesses, forced to produce, knowing full well that these same men actually expected me to do something.

Reluctantly, I did.
Fortunately, I did.

If I hadn't, I would never know what kind of woman interests Apolo Anton Ohno.
Before last winter's Olympics, Ohno could have been just another Seattle teenager with long hair and a scruffy soul patch on his chin.
For all I knew, Apolo was either a Greek god or a space mission, before everyone came to know him as a superstar speedskater and gold medalist.
Then he turned into an overnight heartthrob. I wanted to see what it was like to be a chick magnet.

I was stuck with Ohno, whose life is but a dream.
"What are you looking for in a woman?" I asked Ohno for reasons unknown, aside from the fact that I was truly desperate. Thankfully, he sensed it and responded.
"Independent, outgoing, common interests," Ohno said. "But the woman I'm attracted to won't be based on what I write down on paper. It's going to be what I feel."Ohno said some women throw themselves at him. (As opposed to the Go 2 Guy, who has had some women throw things at him.).
In New York, he received marriage proposals under his hotel-room door. (Like you, I only get the bill.)
"From girls I've never seen before," he said.
Others slip scantily clad pictures of themselves under his door and knock.
"Then I hear the pitter-patter of them running down the hall," Ohno said.
Whoever the future Mrs. Ohno is, she won't be known for some time. He would prefer a woman who wants him for him, and couldn't care less about his fame.
"I'm only 20, man," he said. "It would be nice to meet someone who didn't watch me (in the Olympics)."

EDIT: He's gonna have a he!!uva time finding someone who doesn't know him NOW, ain't he?

[mtnme]

Wow!

You guys are on fire here! Thanks for everyones articles. It's great to see them all in one place!

Lori, your's was SO inspirational. I hadn't seen that one - and your right- Apolo does have a big heart!

Modify: Oh sure Lori, GND- you have a short attention span and it's all MY fault???

[majestic]

Good idea for the articles thread, mtnme! I've pinned this thread so it stays at the top of the forum for easy access!